


Game Plan

by marguerite_26



Series: my mating games ficlets and drabbles [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Bets & Wagers, Fraternities & Sororities, M/M, Masturbation, Penis Size, Public Masturbation, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The rules," Danny says, waving a wad of cash in one hand, a tape measure in the other. "First years -- Scott, Stiles, Jackson -- vs upper years -- Isaac, Boyd, Derek. Cumulative length."</p><p>Derek rolls his eyes. Boyd's going to owe him for this. "Hard?"</p><p>"Hard as you can make it, big boy," Stiles says, then he fucking winks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mating games challenge: Tropes
> 
> Thank you to [melusinahp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusinahp) and [faithwood](http://archiveofourown.org/users/faithwood) for the beta.

Derek's phone chirps with a text from Boyd, saying only _get your ass down here_.

He stares at it, then at his Algebra textbook. Rolling his sore shoulders, he checks the time. He's been at it since breakfast, so he puts down his pencil and stands. Boyd never asks unless it's important.

\--

It takes him three and a half seconds to decide he is very wrong about that. "What the hell are you assholes up to now?" 

None of the idiots gathered around the Alpha Kappa basement bother to answer. Derek would be surprised, maybe even shocked, if the four years he's spent living in the frat house hadn't made him numb to just how ridiculous college boys are. 

Scott's counting out fives into Danny's waiting hand while the rest are fishing out their wallets. 

Derek kicks Boyd's shin. "Can I go back up? I've got an midterm tomorrow." 

"No." Boyd and Isaac say in unison, just as Stiles yells, "yes."

"Shut up, Stilinski," Danny says as he takes a pile of cash from Jackson. 

"Guys, it's one thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. What could you possibly--"

"In or out, Hale?" Danny says, eyes blatantly eyeing Derek's crotch. "You got something impressive in that underarmour to give you an edge?" 

"You called me down for a pissing contest?" Derek scowls at Boyd. 

Boyd, giving no shits, shrugs. "The pot's gotten up to four seventy-five."

"Ew!" Scott scrunches his nose. "There's no _pissing_."

"Dick length, Hale." Jackson eyes him like it's as obvious as deciding between stuffed crust or extra cheese. 

"The rules," Danny says, waving a wad of cash in one hand, a tape measure in the other. "First years -- Scott, Stiles, Jackson -- vs upper years -- Isaac, Boyd, you. Cumulative length."

Derek rolls his eyes. Boyd's going to owe him for this. "Hard?"

"Hard as you can make it, big boy," Stiles says, then he fucking winks. 

Not for the first time, Derek regrets ever letting him pledge for their fraternity. Derek had mostly chosen him to piss off Jackson. It had worked perfectly; making Scott and Stiles equals to Jackson in the pledging had knocked Jackson's ego just enough to make him tolerable. 

Unfortunately, Derek soon found himself saddled with a senior year filled with smart mouth comments, endless flirting, and painful blue balls. It's been a year of bad decisions.

Stiles drags his eyes over Derek in that blatant, over the top way he has that's part goof-ball, part x-rated. "Or I guess we'll see about the big boy part." 

"Jesus," Derek hisses, tossing a glare at Boyd.

"I need the money, man." Boyd's face holds no guilt.

Derek shakes his head, cursing ever picking Boyd as a friend. But Boyd's really his only friend, and never really asks for anything, so there's no choice to make. "Fine, I'm in," he says, reaching for his wallet.

Just add one more to the pile of this year's decisions he'll eventually regret. 

Stiles is grinning at him. It takes up half his face and is mildly unsettling. This is such a bad idea. He already regrets it but his money's already disappeared into Danny's back pocket. The best he can hope is that none of it ends up funding Jackson's next car wax.

Danny lines them up facing each other in pairs, saying it's easier for measuring but there's a mischievous gleam in his eye. Derek understands when he sees who he's paired with; Stiles' jaw is blotchy pink as he steps up. 

Having seen enough of Danny's matchmaking, Derek knows exactly what's running through his evil brain.

"Pants around your ankles, boxers on 'till you call measure," Jackson says. "No homo."

Stiles whispers, " _So much_ homo," and Derek's stomach clenches.

He slips a hand into his boxerbriefs. There's trash talking going on to his left between Jackson and Boyd, and fuck-me-eyes to his right between Isaac and Scott. 

"Blow your load before you get measured and you forfeit," Jackson reminds Isaac, who is panting something fierce already.

"Measure!" Isaac squeaks, and Danny hustles over. Scott calls it right after.

"Firsties in the lead by a quarter inch."

"Not for long," Boyd says. "Measure me."

Danny whistles, Jackson curses and Derek grins. No surprise there; he'd shared a dorm with Boyd in first year.

"Upper years take over the lead," Danny announces.

Derek smirks at Stiles. "You'd better hope Jackson's wallet is deeper than his dick is long."

"Feeling _cocky_ , Hale?" Stiles' eyes trail downwards, mouth parting as he watches Derek's hand work. The cotton of his underwear is making his knuckles tingle as he speeds up under Stiles' scrutiny.

"You can back out now, Stilinski," Derek says as Stiles' cheeks get a little ruddier. "Save face."

"What, you planning to aim at my face?" Stiles is gnawing his lip like he's thinking about it. 

When they head to Jungle, Stiles is like this, drunk enough to flirt shamelessly with Derek without even trying to hide it behind a joke. Derek's always careful to never let himself be drunk enough to flirt back.

He feels drunk now. He struggles to focus as Stiles just keeps staring, like he's mesmerized. It's a fight to remember where they are. 

"You can keep looking, but it's not getting any smaller," Derek says to break the tension. But it comes out too breathy.

"I'm waiting for it to get bigger. That's hardly a mouthful." Stiles grins. "I have big mouth."

Does he ever. Derek needs to stop staring at it. Looking lower isn't any better. Derek can see the the outline of the thick shaft as Stiles rubs himself through the cotton of his Batman boxers. The tent he's got going looks like it wants to send the batsignal into orbit.

"Son of a bitch." Derek's pretty sure Scott and Jackson knew they had a fucking ringer on their team. He only now remembers they were all on the same lacrosse team in high school.

"Jesus, Stiles," Isaac shouts, "you got a flagpole in there?"

"Is four seventy-five divisible by three?" Scott asks.

When Stiles adjusts himself, the full crown of his dick pokes out from his waistband. Derek may have pictured a time or twenty how he'd like Stiles' perfect snarky mouth stuffed full of his dick, but instantly his fantasy is reversed.

He's never been concerned about his own dick size but if either of them call measure now, he's lost. 

There's only one way to win this and Derek's modesty gives way to his competitiveness.

He lets go of his cock and strips off his shirt. "Hot in here." 

Boyd snickers from somewhere behind him.

Stiles goes pinker. "Asshole." He eyes Derek's chest, like he always does, hungry -- so much hungrier now that he knows the show is for him. He knows he's being played; Derek can see it in the amused glint in Stiles' eyes, like he's impressed Derek is so clever. 

Stiles could call measure -- _should_ call measure-- now that he understands Derek's game plan. The only reason Derek can think of that he doesn't is that Stiles doesn't want this to be over. 

Derek wishes they were alone. He'd rather it be over just for that reason. His skin prickles, suddenly feeling this moment's gotten too intimate to share with their audience.

But Boyd really does need the money. So Derek steps forward, hand slipping around Stiles' neck. 

Brushing Stiles' ear with his lips, he whispers, "Bet you'd choke me with that beast."

"Shit." Stiles gasps, blinking wide-eyed at Derek like he's never truly seen him before. 

"Bet I'd love it, too," Derek adds, adrenaline and lust making him reckless. As he strokes himself, his knuckles graze ever so lightly against the tip of Stiles' cock.

"Measu--" But it's too late. Derek feels Stiles' jizz shoot up his abs, a hot splash hitting all the way up to his cheek. 

Derek holds him, hand still tight on Stiles' neck as he trembles through the last messy spurts. His forehead falls to Derek's shoulder, trusting and vulnerable. 

A flare of warmth in his chest makes Derek want to keep Stiles safe and close, always. He wonders why he'd fought so hard to deny this.

The chatter of the room breaks the quiet moment. And Stiles shakes off Derek's hold.

He grins, a sheepish, crooked smile, and wipes the come from Derek's cheek. "Don't think your stupid face has looked any better."

Ignoring the exchange of money in the background, Derek pulls Stiles into a kiss. Boyd's welcome to Derek's share anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [marguerite26](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/marguerite26) on tumblr. Hi.


End file.
